


The End is where we begin

by HowDoesThatMakeYouFeel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Get more intense the further on into the story you read, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome (of sorts), Violence, among other things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowDoesThatMakeYouFeel/pseuds/HowDoesThatMakeYouFeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Siega wanted to do, was to escape what had been haunting her: leave all of it behind. And she did, but at a cost. That was eighteen months ago; before Jim Moriarty got involved.<br/>Jim needed an 'employee'- someone to help with the hits he and Sebastian were organizing, someone to tell him the right man for the job, and where the target happened to be.<br/>But going against the words of your boss -one of the most dangerous bosses at that- is something that's just asking for disaster.<br/>[[Story gets more thick/rough as it goes on.]] [[Mentions of Domestic Violence]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Siega Lane.

_Her hand reached out, shaking. She could almost feel him, as if he was always stood there constantly glaring at her and undermining everything she'd ever done. Granted, she'd never accomplished much for him to undermine but the paranoia of always having to live up to his expectations was destroying her. He'd find some way of finding her, claiming her, twisting her into being his. All his.  
_  
 _As her palm made contact with the phone and she put it to her ear, she knew this was the only way out. Lord knows every other route of escaping had been tried, and given any other predicament this would've never even crossed her mind.  
_  
 _"Mrs. Lane, I hope?" the voice was brisk, to the point. He made the question not even sound like he needed an answer- like he knew everything already and he was just asking to purely mock her.  
_  
 _"Speaking" oh man, how her mind was screeching at her to put the phone down. What if he found out? What if he had secretly planted cameras and microphones on her? Should she really continue with this?  
_  
 _"Oh good." and with that, the phone had died. She checked the screen, but the time still showed. The call has ended- he'd ended it. Interview terminated._  
 __  
And with that, she'd signed her life over. Signed it over to a man she'd never even met, nor conversed with, nor knew anything about apart from his name. But, at least he would be gone forever- and for once in a very long time, she smiled.  
  


****Eighteen months later. __  
  
The sharp London air caught the faces of all out on the streets: the business men and women; the school kids obviously late to whatever class they were meant to be sat in; the everyday parents enjoying a few hours to themselves, whilst the rest of the troupe were dispersed in various other places of employment or education and the rest of the wanderers- not really walking with an inclined destination, or a goal to achieve whilst out about about.  
  
Within the parade skulked a rather bored Siega Lane. She hadn't been given a single thing to do, and was not too politely told to make herself busy. What can a bored, job/chore-less 21 year old girl do with herself?   
Shopping was never her thing- too many people, too many close encounters with strangers. Sports was completely off the card, Siega hadn't partaken in any sports for a long while. Sitting at home just made her anxious and all restless until she took her own anxiety out on herself and her wall...  
So, since there wasn't an empty field for miles that hadn't been built upon or plagued by young children on play-parks, and her wall had too many injuries it was practically crying, she went for the other option.  
  
She found a bench positioned outside the shopping centre nearby, and plonked herself down with a rather audible sigh. Her eyes transfixed on everyone who walked past, doing a quick decipher of them before going onto the next.  
  
Male, early forties, hasn't been to the hairdressers in a long while ergo has a very hectic job, as to have let something so quizzical and everyday slip from his mind. Also backed up by the chewed fingernails and deep grey hairs, which are usually less in the average forty year old male. The standard of his suit is high-end, but not designer, must earn a good living but puts his family ahead of himself so buys his clothes after they do. Small scratch on his left hand, too big to be a cat yet too big to be a medium-sized dog. Not that-well trained as it's still harsh when play fighting with it's owners- must be a family dog. Children maybe? Family dog, costs on his clothes come after other people, his figure shows hes well-fed, but doesn't have time for exercise- his children are around the teenage years, then.  
  
And he continues walking around the corner and out of sight. 'Well, that was interesting while it lasted' Siega was pretty sure even the people walking by could hear the sarcasm in her mind.  
  
Alas, one man caught her eye. One man and his friend, it appeared at first glance. He, the taller more pristine looking gentleman, almost glided down the street taking in his surroundings and the people around. Whereas the shorter other had a clumsy walk, constantly weaving in and out of the people- either due to his height, or not being able to keep up.  
  
Siega couldn't decipher anything apart from the obvious about the lankier of the two- and this only interested her more. Her gaze dropped back onto the companion stumbling along and could basically read his life; retired Military soldier, didn't leave of his own accord shown by his almost marching walk complete with arm movement, no animals, not a social man as he's avoiding all eye contact with those around him.  
  
She returned back to the other man. Nothing. Just question marks appeared in her mind. Question marks and ellipsis' were the only things to describe this man.  
  
He continued to hover along the pavement, and turned the corner.   
'Hey, nothing else to do' and with that Siega stood up and followed in the direction of the Gentlemen.


	2. Stay away from Sherlock Holmes

"All I'm saying, Sherlock is- wait. Are you even listening to me?!" John almost screeched the end of the question. Exasperated by this argument that had been going on for quite a while, and still showed no signs of letting up.

"Of course I am, John." Sherlock's mind was elsewhere. He was examining his surroundings more so than normal- something was different, something was off.  
"Well what did I just say then, hm?" An eyebrow was raised.

"Something about Marissa not picking up your calls, or is it Julie?" Sherlock span around on the spot, glaring at John for a split second, before looking behind the shorter fellow and checking behind him.

"I give up. Maybe if you stopped preaching at me for 'not concentrating' and 'not seeing the full picture'", the use of John's index and middle fingers being used in a bunny-ears motion annoyed the detective, "you'd see that you don't do either of those things as well! See, you're doing it now- blocking me out like I'm white noise. I'll have you know I constantly see the full picture and at least I listen to yo-"

He was cut off as Sherlock subtly leaned into his ear before roughly growling in an almost-whisper, "If that's true, please explain to me how you haven't caught on we're being followed, and have been for a good couple streets."

* * *

 He was mind-boggling. Siega couldn't put her finger on anything, still- and she'd been following him for meters. No sign of his job, apart from it didn't involve alot of sitting down (from his impeccably fit and slim figure). It also wasn't a stressful job as no worry signs were noticeable and his pace was more of naturally quick nature, unlike if he had fallen into the habit of rushing to get it places.

He could be a journalist? No signs of ink on his hands, but he could've just washed it off? Could explain his nature of looking around- as if swallowing everything he could about his habitat. But he didn't show any signs of working to a deadline; the bitten fingernails, the untidy look of 'putting work before himself', the snake-look in all journalists eyes.

Everything just hit a brick wall. A 'thump' ricocheted around her head every route she could, to explain this man.

The companion of the two, the man in tow of the indescribable human, had has arms flailing around as if trying to get the attention of the slender being. Siega couldn't hear much, as she kept a safe distance away from them, but could pick up the odd word every now and then.

'are', 'why', 'listening', 'don't'. "Sounds like a lovers tiff" she smirked quietly to herself. The fact her alien-man was being told off by the retired solider- how could this not be comical?

Suddenly, he span around on the spot and she dived behind a phone box quickly pulling out her mobile making herself look semi-busy. This was the worse disguise she had ever had the misfortune of pulling. But when your only hiding-place is a half transparent box, you have to look like a grade A idiot.

She daren't look up, not until she could fake a phone call. That would've been too risky at the moment- if he hadn't spotted her already, the ringtone would've made him.  
And just at that point, like her boss knew now would be the worst time to call, her phone rang.

* * *

 "W- What?" John couldn't make heads or tails of it. Either why they were being followed, or how on earth Sherlock could've picked up on it. It was London, there were many a person going the same route as you, maybe he'd just made a mistake.

It's not like it'd be the first time.

Sherlock's mind wasn't even registering John's voice -'what a surprise' John thought to himself- he was too busy twitching his head around looking like a damned velociraptor after it's prey.

And then something caught his attention- a phone box? No, wait, someone was stood the other side of it. On a mobile phone? or was it an iPod? The ringing that took place just a few mere seconds after Sherlock snapped his vision onto them just drew his attention to them more. Now even John was intrigued.

The figure lifted their hand up to their ear, and answered the call. Obviously it was an important call as they were talking in hushed tones, neither of the two men could make out a single word being said.  
Finally, they lifted their head up, and turned to face the spectators of the phone call. It was a woman; not very old, not at all, maybe early twenties at a push but more like eighteen- this wasn't compensated by her height either, as she was about the same height as John. She had brown hair, curling down past her face and just to her shoulders, and blue eyes. Nothing of her shocked John- just an average girl. The only thing that maybe separated her from the crowd, was the fact her eyes were a tad bigger than the other women John has met.

"Sherlock, that girl?" He whispered back at Sherlock, unsure of whether he could actually hear him or not.

"Girl? Really John? She's at least Twenty. And by that, I'm assuming you mean to question whether she's the one that has been following us?" He didn't take his eyes off her for a second- he was completely enthralled.

"Well, yeah"

"Of course. Couldn't you sense the sarcasm?"

In reply, John lifted his eyebrow up and had a facial expression that screamed 'you're kidding me, right?'

* * *

 "Ah, Siega. Just the person I required. Do me a favour would you, sweetheart?" the sickly sweet scent of scotch and mint filled her nostrils, as if subconsciously linking the voice to the smell.

"Depends on what it is" She seemed hesitant- she was used to this guy, and the stunts he pulled.

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes." He growled down the phone, before hanging up. His tone scared Siega to the core- he meant it, and she knew the things he could do if she disobeyed.  
  
She stood staring at the phone screen, until she snapped back to reality. 'Who is Sherlock Holmes?'. Surely it must've been someone she had met, otherwise he would never have bought it up.  
But the name didn't ring a bell in her mind? Maybe it;s someone who was about to ring, and ask about a job with her boss? Or maybe it was a double bluff, and her boss would actually show her Sherlock Holmes in a meeting, and forewarned her.  
  
Just at that moment, a gruff voice broke her trance 'excuse me, can I borrow your lighter, please?'


	3. Confrontation

"Pardon?" Siega looked up in complete awe: the same man who'd made her start to question if she could even read people anymore, was now in her face asking for a lighter?

"Oh, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to stutter," he glared menacingly at her, which resulted in her wondering about running far, far away from this strange man, "but I asked if I could borrow your lighter?"

She patted her pockets quickly, in a huried hunt for it. She knew she had one, but where on earth did she put it? He was putting her on the spot- making her on edge. Siega didn't like it. Not one bit.  
  
The man lifted one eyebrow at her, and smirked before continuing, "it doesn't matter. Please, don't let us stop you from continuing on your way" he stepped back before moving his arm outwards- highlighting the rest of the street ahead.  
  
Siega didn't need to be told twice before she hurriedly nodded a 'thank you' and rushed away from the two gentlemen. As she left she could just hear a voice, which she guessed was the soldier, say in a rasied manner "What was that for?"

But all she knew, was she had two unaswered questions she desperately wanted answering:  
" _who on earth was that man?_ " and " _how did he know I smoke?_ "

* * *

"What was that for?!" John Watson took a step towards his friend in an attempt to make himself more menacing. Who was he kidding- no one could even intimidate Sherlock Holmes. 

Sherlock just smiled beofre turning back to where the woman was stood and bent down. He picked something up, before tossing it around in his hand, "I think our little follower won't miss this too much."  
  
He triumphantly held a lighter inbetween his thumb and forefinger, showing it to his companion.  
  
John just replied with a half-open mouth, and a confused expression before Sherlock took this as a non-verbal 'what?'.

"Well," Holmes started, "it appeared she was in such a rush to answer that phonecall of hers, she missed it falling out of her pocket. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to spot it on the floor, does it?" sarcasm laced around his words as he shoved the lighter into his pocket.

"I think it'll be in our best interests to keep hold of this- I have my suspicions we'll be seeing that woman again"

* * *

It'd been a few hours after Siega's strange encounter with the 'unknown', and she had been summoned back to her flat. As she opened the door, she noticed a well-too familiar face perched on her leather sofa, fiddling around with a sliver-plated pocket knife (which she had become well-too familar with also). She sighed before taking off her jacket and hanging it up behind the door, as it shut behind her.   
  
"It appears you didn't do as I requested, dear." the figure spoke without removing his attention even for a fraction of a second from his knife.  
  
"I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?" Siega's voice was uncontrollably shaky. She hated him when he was like this- she'd done something, and she'd probably never know what: just get the end of his rage. Why couldn't she just be Sebastian? He never gets any of this 'rage' thrown at him.

At Siega's reply, the man on her sofa stopped deadly still. The knife froze in his hand, and all of his body locked in place. All except for his head, that she swore shook very slightly from side to side, "I thought I told you to stay away from Sherlock Holmes".  
  
She got a reply- and that scared her even more. He had reason, he had a motive to put her in line, he was angry and she caused it.  
  
"I'm so sorry. I have no idea who Sherlock Holmes even is!" Siega was frozen to the spot, she hated this man so much. He was a constant reminder of the past, and in everything she had tried to get away from. Yet, she was tied to him- if she left, she'd have no life. Literally.  
  
He chuckled before putting the knife away slowly into his suit jacket pocket, and standing even more slowly. His stare bore into the ground, and Siega was sure the wooden flooring was about to combust, "Of course you didn't. How STUPID of me to not make things clearer" Siega jumped back at his sudden raised voice. His stare was now locked on her, taking in all of her tall figure before clasping eye contact with the frightened female. She looked like she was about to faint- so close to visibly shaking.  
"Boss, I didn't mean it like that. Please do-"  
  
"ENOUGH" He started walking towards her, "because of you, Mr.Holmes is now very suspicious. Not of me, and my employment- but of you. That maggot will worm himself into every single data base, until he understands everything about you. He won't rest until he has his finger firmly pressed on every road you've ever walked on, every shop you've ever spent money in, every job you've ever had. Do you understand what that means, Siega?"  
  
By the time he'd finished, he had cornered her back against her front door.  
  
Siega quickly shook her head, just as her boss reached out and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. As he did so, she winced- it was noticed. He smirked and looked back down at the ground, before turning around and walked two steps back towards her sofa. He sighed and span on the spot- locking eyes once more.  
  
"It means, you've become a liability." Siega's heart was in her throat, which she quickly swallowed back down and leaned off the door.  
  
"Sir, I'm so sorry I didn't realise what my actions would cause." she couldn't bare the man staring into her soul anymore, and so averted her eyes to the floor.  
  
"So, now we're stuck in a predicament, aren't we sweetie?" His anger was reaching back up, how dare she not look him in the eye, "However, how I see it- we have three options. Would you care to hear them?" He motioned towards the sofa, and Siega saw it in the corner of her eye. She lifted her head back up to her boss, and practically ran over to the sofa. Moments later, her boss had squated down to the same height as the sitting woman.  
  
"Option one," he lifted a finger to show the number, "we allow you to stay in our employment and act like nothing ever happened- which would in turn allow a certain Mr.Holmes to stumble across Moi, as the employer of yourself. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" Siega shock her head, too scared to talk, "Correct. No, no we wouldn't."  
  
"Option two," another finger was lifted from the same hand, "we dispose of you swiftly, and with no fuss." Her head shot up, and saw her boss completely straight-faced as if this notion was completely normal, "Alas, we wouldn't want such a pretty girl to go to waste." Siega sighed in relief, and watched as another smile crept up onto the face of the man infront of her.  
  
"Option three, you still listening?" another head nod from the female, "Good, it would be a shame for us to have to resort to the second option after all we've been through together." there was a hint of humour to his voice- this amused him. Sick, sick man.  
  
"As I was saying, Option three; we loosen our hold on you- but not too much, no one wants you running off." the smile stayed plastered on his face, as he finished his sentence with a sickly-sweet tone, "Which would allow Sherlock Holmes to figure out all he wants about you, with help from yourself to make sure he doesn't come across our little establishment we have. Then, after all the nasty stuff has been taken care of and everyone is off our trail, you come back to your familiar routine. Think of it like taking a holiday."  
  
He stood up, and turned towards her kitchen, "I'm dying for a cup of tea- maybe you should make us both one, whilst we talk through the final details of this mess." How on earth a man could could so menacing, so belittling, even when ordering a cup of tea, was beyond Siega's knowledge.  
  
"Yes sir." she stood up, tucking her hair back behind her ear just as her boss had done, and walked in the same direction as the man.  
  
Just as she reached the doorway, an arm covered in a well-tailored suit reached out across her, "let me remind you who you work for, Siega Lane. I'm not a man to be taken lightly, you of all people should know that." He growled into her ear, before leaning in even closer, "we all know what happens to anyone who plays with Jim Moriarty."


	4. Stage 1: Initiate Conversation

Sherlock chuckled at the sight- the detectives and forensic teams from the Regent Park area were all flustered over a simple murder case. All Sherlock needed was a quick five-minute examination of the body, and it instantly clicked as to the cause of death.  
The scene before him consisted of numerous police officers faffing around, Lestrade calling around orders, photographs being taken of the crime scene inbetween the forensic teams searching through the abandoned house and a dead body whom had even seemed a tad lively within the drama unfolding around it.  
'What ever happened to 'resting in peace'?'  
  
John Watson stumbled across the width of the room, to stand by the hawk-eyed detective. He scanned Holmes' face for any sign of emotion; none. Well not much of a surprise there. He himself glared at Mr.Holmes- as he forewarned him before, chuckling at the crime scene isn't the best of ideas if you haven't got an agenda of being number one suspect.  
  
"Come on then, spill the beans"  
  
Sherlock looked down, blank faced- he had no idea what Watson was saying.  
  
"I mean about the case. Cause of death?" Watson looked up at the detective and beamed a smile. In reply Sherlock stared blankly at him, his face void of any emotion, before sighing,  
  
"Puncture wound to the neck shows a needle was injected into his blood stream at least eight hours ago, his time of death is near the eight hour mark aswell- therefore an extremely potent singular poison, or concoction. The murderer knew what they were doing, but wishes to be caught. Look and the puncture wound, it's been accentuated cleverly by make up, shown by the faint glisten in the sunlight on the surface of the man's neck." The detective blinked- observing John's facial expression, of which was a gaping mouth absorbing every word spoken, "Clearly, they either want fame or to be noticed for their murders, or they think very highly of them selves. So much so, that they believe they're never going to get caught, ergo leaving a mark to be known from."  
  
"Hang on, 'mark to be known from'? Sherlock, you don't think they'll strike again do you?"  
  
Sherlock walked off to the left towards the door, exchanging head nods with DI Lestrade before exiting into the street outside. John Watson followed close behind, also giving a slight 'goodbye' to Lestrade.  
It had just turned 5pm and, being late Autumn, the sun was just starting to set. A sea of pinks, oranges and faint undertones of red filled the sky in waves of emotion. Outside seemed to be without the feel of the stress, the panic, the rush of getting to and from destinations that Sherlock usually breathed in everytime he venture to a location in the city. It was as if the population of London had joined in the calmness of the sky, and had started to feel at ease, "Remember that case about two weeks ago now, John? Woman, late thirties, coming home from a work party at the local gastro pub?"  
  
John nodded a 'yes' motion, "Her throat was slit, right? If I remember correctly, they still haven't found the killer?"  
  
"Correct. Alas, when the autopsy report came back, it stated that when the body was washed, the wound in the neck was less than that required to bleed out and die. The amount of blood around the wound, and on the floor of the crime scene, had also been mixed in with Karo syrup and Cochineal extract" The detective stopped at the side of the road, looking from left to right a few times for any motor vehicles, before beginning to cross the road.  
  
"The key ingredients for fake blood? So the murderer wanted it to look like the cause of death was different to what is was." John had fallen in stride next to Sherlock, not really caring about what the passers-by must be thinking if they overheard any part of their conversation, "I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say the actual cause of death was extremely close too, if not exactly like, that poor man we've just witnessed?"  
  
Sherlock nodded, "It appears our killer may be a bit theatrical when it comes to his murders."

* * *

Man, how she hated Moriarty. He was the only man who could make Siega feel any emotion he wished her to feel. After eighteen months in each other's company, Jim knows of any and every way to make her cry, smile, fear him, worry and in some cases even want him- and that terrifies her more than anything else in this world.   
Luckily, the man had left her humble abode not long after the encounter. He'd run over the plan, and warned her of the conditions if she did not comply to anything in the step-by-step 'how to get a consulting detective off your back within a week' guide.  
  
The only good thing to come out of Jim's visit was her new found information about Sherlock Holmes. As well as piecing together that the man in the street, was actually infact Mr.Holmes himself ( _'way to give an early warning, Boss'_ ), she found out his career in the detective path. Apparently a 'consulting detective' works with the police, and helps to solves crimes. But, from the impression Moriarty was giving off- Sherlock wasn't doing as his job description entails too well.  
He'd been all over Moriarty like 'flies to a corpse' in the words of the demon man himself. Relentlessly trying to run him into the ground, but never having one-over on Jim. Something inside Siega wished and hoped that the detective would run him so far into the ground, he'd be inside a grave, but she knew that it would never happen.  
Still, a bit of hope never hurt anyone.  
  
And just as she thought of his name- he appeared. Across the street from her stood the man himself- Mr Sherlock Holmes, accompanied by his shorter companion, whom she also learned his name was John Watson. Both men were living together in a flat, 221b Baker Street, and had been for quite some time.  
She finally zapped back into reality and realised she was completely in the open- if he spotted her now, it'd only heighten his interest and suspicions more.

> _"You've interested Sherlock Holmes, Siega. No one has ever done that. No one except for Moriarty. He sees through people and can cut their life story into soluble pieces for everyone around him to digest just to show his intelligence. He couldn't see your story, dear- he's a dangerous man, and you're in a dangerous situation. Between Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes; you're stuck between the fire and the frying pan." Sebastian Moran had warned her, as he transported them towards a crime scene, rumoured to have pulled Mr.Holmes' interest into investigating._
> 
> _"So he knows about you, then?"_
> 
> _The trained assassin laughed at the woman sat in the passenger seat, "No one knows about me, especially not Sherlock Holmes."_

Siega quickly backed into the wall of a cafe next to her, allowing the crowd of people to swallow her up enough to be hidden, but not to block her vision of Sherlock. She lit up a cigarette, this time making sure she actually had a lighter before looking like an idiot to anyone who may be watching. Just as she took her first drag, her phone vibrated in the coat pocket, and she pulled it out before reading the message;  
' **Time to shine- JM x'**  
  
"Shit."

* * *

Watson had been reeling off every single thought he had about the case to the Detective since the crime scene. Every now and then Sherlock would emotionlessly nod when he thought John had finished a question, just to show he was still alive, as well as holding back the sarcastic comments. That still didn't stop one or two comments coming out of his mouth and hitting John right in his trail of thought.  
Usually by now, Sherlock would've given up hailed a taxi and sat with John for a good twenty minutes as their transport stopped and started at very traffic light before eventually arriving home. But he wanted to be outside- to think. Just to try and put the pieces together. At the moment, all the evidence was definitely circling around someone with a acting background, trying to make their mark on the criminal world, or even a frustrated make-up artist who's taking out their anger on anyone with 'poor skin complexion'.   
  
Although, all this time, he couldn't stop thinking about that damned woman. He kept fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, running over the face he remembered. There were no signs of anything that Sherlock could pick up on. She was well covered, and showed no parts of skin bar her hands, neck and face. Her clothes showed nothing- they were cleaned the night before and ironed that very morning, nothing to highlight anything of interest.   
He tried to piece together that maybe this girl had something to do with the murders they were currently investigating. Not being the murderer herself- she looked too weak and nervous to stick a needle in the neck of an unsuspecting human. But he didn't know that for definite though, and that made him even more annoyed. All he could tell is there was no way she could've done the make up on the bodies, as a tell-tale sign of a smoker is the slightly shaking hands inbetween cigarettes- and her hands were more than noticably shaking when he encountered her.  
Or maybe it was just nerves of being confronted?  
If confrontation is what he hated, she must've had bad experiences in the past with strangers. Maybe even someone she knew, that'd really get her nervous around people. 

Sherlock started to smile to himself- he was creating paths of investigation towards this girl. One way or another, he'd figure her out.

Suddenly John's hand shot out around Sherlock's arm, immediately stopping him from walking into the road and ergo the path of moving traffic.

"God sake Sherlock! You could've got yourself killed!"

"Hm, yes possibly" Sherlock was elsewhere- something wasn't right again. He could feel it, there was something off about his surroundings.

"Come on, I need a cuppa." Watson continued to guide the detective safely across the road, luckily now all the traffic had been stopped by the red beacon signalling the swarm of people that were about to cross the road. He turned slightly left, and towards the cafe he had spotted just before Sherlock's traffic-dive attempt.

Sherlock's head shot up, and yanked his hand away from his companion. Watson nearly yelped at the shock of it all, and watched as Holme's ran straight towards the cafe. _'What on Earth is he doing?'_   Watson shook his head slightly before walking calmly in the same direction.

* * *

Before Siega could reply with a protest, or even lift up her head to try to survey the area for her boss, or even Moran, her arm was grabbed so hard she dropped her cigarette. The force continued to drag her down the little alleyway between the cafe and the bank beside it- the trash alley. She focused on the cause of her movement, and held down a gasp.  
There he was, forcing her behind a rubbish bin to hide themselves from anyone who may look down there after them. Sherlock Holmes had her pinned up against the wall. Sherlock bloody Holmes.  
  
' _Pretty sure this wasn't how it was meant to go_ ' Siega thought to herself, suddenly scared at the thought of her boss being angry at her for messing up the plan already.

"Get off me!" Siega pushed the man back slightly, and moved a step away from the man, further into the Alleyway. He countered this, and took a step towards her, yet again closing the gap between them. At least this time she wasn't pinned up against the wall.

"Who are you?" Sherlock Holmes looked her up and down- she was still in the same clothes. She looked the exact same as she did this morning, bar her hair was tucked behind her ear on the right side, and her eyes were a tad red. She had been crying no more than an hour ago. Her phone screen was still alight in her palm, the white screen showed that she had just received a text, with a few black words at the top of the screen. Sherlock couldn't make out what they said- he was too far away.

"What? Are you mad? You've just shoved me down the back of a cafe, and YOU'RE asking the questions here?" Siega put her phone in her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't a tad cold, even with a coat on.

"Considering you were following us for half an hour, if not longer, this morning, I think I have all the justification I require to ask a few questions" Damn it, he still couldn't figure out anything of useful knowledge about her. 

"You'll be damn lucky. Now if you excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be." She took a step forward, but Sherlock counteracted her, blocking her from leaving.

"What about telling me why you were crying? Or who that text was from?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, causing Siega to sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry if you've ran out of medication or something, today. If you need to go to a hospital or something, I can pay for a taxi to get you there?"

Sherlock snorted, "I'm not schizophrenic, if that's what you're implying. Nor do I have severe paranoia. However, if you'd like to continue this conversation elsewhere, I'm pretty sure Scotland Yard would be more than happy to question you about a suspected case of stalking."

"Stalking wh-" oh, this man was clever. She stopped and swallowed, "you have no proof. Show me proof, and I may consider giving you the time of day but right at this moment in time, I'm a bit annoyed as my cigarette is currently on the floor over there thanks to you."

"Smoking's bad for your health, you know?" 

"Take your own advice then. Then again, judging by the faint, very faint, tremble in your hands, you're just getting the hang of not smoking. What's it been, two months trying to quit?"

"Four. And you've been smoking for just over a year. Now, back to the question- who're you?" 

"This is ridiculous, if anyone's getting arrested by the police here, it's going to be you for attempted kidnapping." Sherlock bellowed with laughter at the woman's reply.

Siega held back a growl before continuing, "Why don't you go and find your friend and have a sit down, relax, and leave me the hell alone?"

Sherlock's laugh slowly dimmed down to a smile, before he pulled out his phone, and held down the number '3'. Siega heard the sound of the phone on the other end ringing, and she took her chance at trying to walk away from the man. Just as she took her second step, his arm shot out grabbing her wrist, before pushing her backward and lightly holding her against the wall.

There was a faint, "Sherlock, what the heck do you want now?" down the phone, before a reply of "DI Lestrade..." Sherlock had put emphasis on the 'DI' for a reason, "there's a case here you may be interested in."

Siega weighed up her options; being arrested, having the police take her name, fingerprints, putting herself in a heap of a mess and angering her boss even more. Or, tell one man want he wants to hear, and hope her boss understands the catch 22 situation she had to get out of. Then again, Moriarty to understand someone's emotions and feelings? Never in a million years 

"Julie" Siega mumbled, looking down at the ground. Just as the 'Lestrade' fellow down the phone said something, Sherlock quickly said "It doesn't matter. Thank you so much for your help anyway." Another person who liked sarcasm just as much as Siega.

"Say that again" Sherlock tested her, glaring into her eyes.

"Julie, my name's Julie."

"You see, when someone lies their pulse beats a little bit faster, and in some cases their pupils go a bit bigger. Other times, people can just tell when someone's lying. And you, just lied to me."

"What do you want from me? I don't understand."

"I want to know why you were following us, among other things." Sherlock let go of her wrist, but still stood in front of her.

"You interested me"


	5. Stage 2: Encounter Target

"Sherlock!" A man appeared in the opening of the alleyway, his voice a mixed of anger and pure confusion. This mixed with panting, from running around trying to find the detective, managed to turn this petite man into a force Siega did not want to mess with.

"What?" his question was directed and Siega's last comment, instead of John's screeching which was now getting closer as he walked forward.

"Sherlock! What are you doing down here?" John's eyes caught onto Siega, and they both instantly recognised each other, "Oh dear. Sherlock, you can't just drag women down into the back alley! I'm so sorry, Madam." He smiled sincerely and put his hand out for a handshake.

Siega took it, and smiled back "It's fine honestly. Look, I'm really sorry if both of you thought I was up to something this morning- I'm not sure why?"

Sherlock's eyebrow raised up, she was suddenly acting all sweet and innocent. He couldn't figure her out, or work out why she was playing this game of hers- and it annoyed him to no end.

"My friend here's currently on edge, more so than usual- which is somewhat surprising" Both John and Siega lightly laughed in a friendly exchange, on behalf of Sherlock.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I have to dash off, I have a meeting in about ten minutes" She smiled before Sherlock scoffed and perked up,

"No you don't"

"Not a professional meeting, anyway" In reply she also raised up an eyebrow, and crossed her arms across her chest

"By the looks of how you're dressed- it's nothing too formal. Nothing that would require a first-glance perception, so it's either someone you know already, or someone you feel comfortable around. You're covered up- no skin showing. So, it's not a boyfriend, unless you're trying to act cold with him in which case bravo you're doing an excellent job. Ten minutes, so that would leave a few feet in proximity, also explaining why you were stood near the cafe." Sherlock took another breath in to continue, but Siega cut him short,

"Potential client, and correct we agreed the cafe will be our meeting place. I'm so sorry, I never caught your name?" She stared at John with an expecting smile before reaching out her arm

"Don't apologise, it's John. John Watson." He smiled back and took her arm, shaking it.

"Siega Lane. Glad to meet you... again?"

John laughed, "What a lovely name."

Sherlock just shook his head and rolled his eyes at his companion, "John, stop it. Put your tongue back in your mouth." In retaliation Watson span his head around and glared.

"Anyway, yes I'm sorry but I really must be going. You should call me sometime, it'd be lovely to continue this another time?" Siega reached into her pocket and pull out a card before handing it to the man in front of her.

"Yes yes, of course! Don't let us stop you" He took the card and nodded his head.

"Sherlock Holmes. Yes, we'll speak again soon" Sherlock spoke up. In all honestly Siega had started to forget that annoying gnat was still buzzing around her.

"Thank you, have a good day!" She waved back at them as she reached the top of the alley and turned into the cafe.

"Really, Sherlock? You really just dragged a young lady down an alleyway and began doing your... thing to her?" John's face was of pure exasperation, staring up at the taller man of the two.

"Careful John, in the wrong context people could start talking."

"Yes, and they're probably already talking about the fact _you've dragged a young woman into a back alley_! Does it not strike you as a non-occurring daily thing to do? I mean, do you even understand what you've just done?" No matter how many time Watson repeated something, nothing deemed less than 'mediocre' in the importance hierarchy would stick in Sherlock's head.

"She was following us, what was I meant to do? Honestly, sometimes I'm sure you don't make any sense to me" Sherlock snatched the card out of Watson's hand before continuing back up to the top of the alleyway. His companion followed behind him, whilst letting out a long sigh. Sherlock peered into the front of the Cafe, and before him sat Siega with another woman about twice her age. They seemed to be deep in conversation, with Mrs.Lane pointing at pieces of paper laid out on the table. All in all, it seemed like a friendly scene, but still something didn't sit right with Sherlock.

"Taxi!" Watson ran out into the road, before hailing their transport home, "Sherlock, get in and leave that damned woman alone"

As they got in, Sherlock looked down at the card in front of him alongside websites, emails and phone numbers, lay a title in deep black writing against the white card;  
' _ **Siega Lane- Speak Up**_ '

* * *

 

"Wait, how is that going to work? Seb's in Italy on that day, and boss prefers him to any others with jobs like this. I mean, you can approach him about Lea taking over instead, but it may take some persuading." Siega looked up at the woman in front of her

"He did impress with that job in Guernsey, let's not forget" The woman counteracted whilst pointing at another section on the piece of paper.

Of course, everything in front of them was coded, and they had to be extremely careful with how they spoke. To any old passers-by, it'll look like a business plan, complete with statistics and numerous broad sheets.

"I can't argue with you on that one, I suppose. I can't help but wonder if maybe he'd put Lea on the Italian job, excuse to pun, rather than this?"

"Either way, wouldn't that be better than to risk losing this opportunity because of some hurt pride?" Siega nodded at the woman.

"So jobs 125 and 349 are sorted 100%, agreed?" As she spoke the number, she pointed to certain areas on two sheets in front of them

"Agreed" The woman gave a small smile in return

"And I'm assuming you'll contact me with either boss' answer, or all the details required for me to take it up with him?"

"Should be sorted by 6pm tonight Ma'am"

Siega looked up, from the table, and smiled, "Hey, no need to formalities here- no one's around, and I certainly won't tell if you don't?"

The woman nodded before carefully picking up and ordering the pieces of paper slowly diminishing away from the table one by one.

"Excellent, well I'll meet with him tonight after the email. Shall we say this time again on Thursday?"

The two woman exchanged goodbyes before both exiting and walking away in different directions to each other.

Just as Siega pressed the crossing button on the traffic light, her phone buzzed and a rather loud 'ping' reverberated into her eardrums.

**'Hello, hope you're not busy? - John Watson'**

**'Not at all. Just finished that meeting, actually. Having a nice night?'**

**'Could say that, I suppose- John Watson'**

**'Need to get out for a breath of fresh air? I can roll by your address in a taxi?'**

**'Sure. 221b Baker Street. Just look for the man tearing his hair out, and that will be me- John Watson'**

**'Got it.'**

She hailed a taxi, and got in, before texting her boss a simple **'125 & 349- Go. En Route to Bravo as I speak.'**

* * *

 

"Where're you going?" The man perched on the sofa, newspaper in hand, wrapped up in a dressing gown, spoke.

"Out." Watson replied in a huff before pulling on his coat.

"I don't like her, John"

"You don't like anyone"

"Why would she tell me a false name, think about it. The following, as well- there's no way that was a mistake on my behalf. I never make mistakes." He threw the paper onto the table and stood up, scratching the back of his head.

"Possibly because you both dislike each other just as much, I'll be back soon don't wait up for me." John Watson walked out the flat door, down the steps, and out the front door of the building. The taxi was already there waiting, with Siega stood beside it.

"Good evening" She smiled before walking back around to the other side of the taxi and jumping in.


	6. Tokyo Drift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> First off, thank you all so much for the kudos, support and comments on this story!  
> Secondly, I am so so sorry about the stretch of time between chapters- trying to juggle college, work and writing is proving a tad difficult. I'm sorry!  
> Lastly, I apologize for how small this chapter is, but it's the last link before I can actually start writing the proper plot and crimey stuff and yes. I'm sorry.
> 
> Thank you guys, and bare with me~

Jim Moriarty was perched atop his leather sofa, glass of scotch in hand, with Igor Stravinsky serenading his afternoon of chaos-free relaxation. The sun had not long since reached it's lowest point on the horizon, the dark night soon to follow in the footsteps of it's disappearance. His bookshelf -filled to the point of overfollowing- was radiating the last signs of the natural light, like a beacon to signal to the nightlife of the start of their adventures for the next twelve hours.

The door at the far end of the door opened slowly, just as Moriarty swallowed his mouthful of liqour. Sebestian Moran's mousy-brown hair came into view, followed by that extremely lanky body of his.

"Moran" Jim nodded his head once, noticing the existence of his top sniper.

"Boss." Sebastian's voice showed no emotion, as he stared into his boss' eyes Jim could tell he was angry about something

"Now, don't pout Seb. It's just a change in roles" He stood up and walked around to his desk located and the side of his bookshelf.

Sebastian sighed clearly aggitated, "No, this is babysitting. I'm baby sitting a twenty-one year old."

"I mean, if you're going to look at it from that angle, going to Japan will make you a Sasquotch hunter" Moriarty couldn't help but smile at the insult towards his ex-employee. His over-hairy assassin had not long since sold him out, leaving him with a mess he had to subtly clean up or else have his name slandered by a good proportion of the criminal community. 'Big Foot', as he was nicknamed by Moriarty, was a liability he couldn't afford to ignore.

Moran stayed quiet, but the annoyance was building.

"Lea's taken the job, Moran. Kin's taken Lea's original job in Italy, so you're either left with this or fisticuffs for one of the two aformentioned." He walked back over to the table, file in hand which he grabbed from atop his desk, and poured himself another scotch on the rocks.

"I'd rather take my chances with Kin."

"Moran." Moriarty pushed forward a small glass of scotch, matching his own, towards Sebastian. His tone was menacing, as he stared off the assasin who had opted for a casual stance after being in his boss' presence for quite a while.

"I'm not happy about this." he huffed as he picked up the glass and took a swig, cleaning out the glass in one mouthful.

* * *

 

"Wait, so he just walked in covered in blood wielding a harpoon?" Siega laughed, whilst holding onto her drink. They'd be in the bar for over an hour now, and both were warming up to each other.

"Yeah," John laughed back, "apparently none of the taxis would take him, and so he took the tube?" he continued his chuckle before taking a mouthful of his drink.  
"Oh, that's weird. I've always thought a man suspiciously covered in blood would be a taxi driver's first choice in passenger." She joined in the laughing, smiling at John sat across from her.

"So, is this what you do for a living? Follow a crazed detective to crime scenes, and help the police with their cases?" She inquired, whilst reminding herself of her boss' eariler visit. 'That's it, Siega. You know nothing about this man.'

"Yeah, pretty much." He nodded and smiled again.

The smell of beer, and the laughter in the air had almost becoming homely to the pair. No-one had been giving them the eye, warning them to get out, infact from the moment they entered and sat down they felt at ease.

"Sounds good. Better than sitting behind a desk, stressing out over deadlines"

"And you, if you don't mind me asking? What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a counsellor, of sorts. I work for a company, I suppose you could call it, which helps women and men involved in domestic violence. Whether it be them trying to recover from being the victim, or asking for help in stopping their rage." She smiled and took a drink before continuing, "My friend is the one who actually devised it, she called it 'Speak Up' after a saying her mother would always tell her when she needed help. We also help the children affected. Although I tend to work more on the women side, as research shows women feel more comfortable talking about those sorts of things to other women. Anyway, sorry. I'm babbling on."

John shook his head, "No no, no need to apologize. That sounds like a full on job?"

Siega nodded "Yeah, it has its days. Sometimes you come home and you just want to cry, there are some cases where you feel like you should've done more, even if there are restrictions. Other days, you look at the people you've helped, and it's the best feeling." John smiled, urging her to go on, "I wouldn't change career paths for the world though. Although, your life sounds more than chaotic, seriously how do you manage?"

Watson slightly laughed, "some days I don't. Poor Sherlock gets the end of my rage, which I don't think affects him too much, but he takes his bad days out on me as well. It's like a mutual emotion punching-bag kind of friendship."

"Surely it must also feel amazing. Those greiving families you help, the criminals you stop?"

He smiled, "Yeah, it does."

They both sat talking, discussing each other in detail, whilst finishing their drinks. John Watson looked down at his watch, and saw the digital lights show up '21:47'. He swallowed the last bit of beer in his glass, and smiled up at Siega.

"I'm really sorry to cut this short, but I better be back off home"

Siega looked up, and stopped toying with her empty wine glass, "No need to apologize, it's okay" she smiled back, "Could I be cheeky and ask to share the taxi ride home?"  
"Of course!" They both stood together, and made headway for the door.

* * *

 

Moran was angry, to say the least. From the moment Moriarty had informed him of the intial plan, he wasn't happy. But now, this took the biscuit. Not only did he want Moran to calmly give up an oppotunity of a job that could make his name, but he now wanted him to go 'secret spy' on someone whom he classed as a 'friend' at the worse of times.  
He sulked around his apartment trying to find some way to vent out his aggression: trying to do the dishes didn't help, only made him break one of his only bowls; all of his bedsheets and alike were already made, as always; no dusting was required and the same stood for the hoovering. It was times like this that even his immaculate house started to annoy him.

It'd been over an hour since he'd returned home from his 'brief' with his boss, and he still felt the same way. If this was one of Moriarty's cruel tricks on him, he'd surely overstepped the mark this time.

Suddenly, a vibrating noise came from the kitchen unit, followed by a lonely 'ping'. He picked up his phone, and glanced at the icon signalling he'd recieved a new text message. As he pressed a few buttons the message appeared on the screen;

' **Hey, sorry I haven't been in contact all day! Fancy a quick catch up at my place? I'll be home in five** '

Usually, he'd smile and jump straight at the oppotunity. But now? Now he had to think, and he had to think hard.


	7. One step forward, shoved Three steps back.

"Red or White?" Siega turned and smiled at Sebastian as he perched on her sofa. In front of him she held out two bottles of wine, each with different labels and a different coloured glass-surrounding.

"Not fussed really, whichever you want to open" He shrugged his shoulders and looked back down to his hands- clasped together in front of him. Moran was too tall for his own comfort, and so the lanky man had both his knees facing different width-ends of the room. Whenever he sat with his legs together, something didn't feel right and he felt out of place.

"You okay with White then?" Moran nodded in agreement, not taking his eyes off his hands, "I take it you've had a tough day?"

He shrugged, "suppose, yeah." Siega handed him a glass and sat in the chair next to him: now feeling a bit more comfortable knowing he had the whole two-seater sofa to himself- not a close-proximity conversation with Mrs. Lane.

Siega's flat was one of simplicity. Her living room was painted with brown and green alternating walls, with a cream set of curtains enhanced with green detailing covering the windows. The cream carpet only made Sebastian weary of Siega clumsiness, especially when handling red wine. How that girl hadn't stained the carpet after eighteen months was a mystery.

There was a TV placed at the back of the room, next to the kitchen door, and a bookshelf next to that. Granted, it was lacking any books themselves, as it was stacked with various DVDs and comics, but it kind of helped make everything feel more comfortable.

Siega lifted the glass to her lips before looking up at Moran.

"Feel like talking about it?" She smiled sympathetically at him. It was Moriarty, she could feel his foul stench of misfortune follow Sebastian around like a cat to a sicky mouse.  
  
Usually Moran would be smiling, asking about her day and answering any she said in return. It'd been a usual accustom to the strange duo; talking about the things no one else would understand. They were the lost ones in society, but they had each other- and sometimes, each other was the only thing to keep them grounded.

Within the eighteen months she'd worked with Sebastian and Jim, she'd spent the first five months trying to warm to Seb. He was quiet, strange, the complete opposite of anyone she'd spoken to in the life she was trying to -and had to- leave behind.

In reply he timidly shook his head and took a gulp of the wine, "Thanks love, but I'll be okay."

"Well, you know I'm here if you need me at all" Siega smiled again, and Moran looked up before smiling back.

He sighed before trying to start another conversation, "How'd everything go today?"  
She mustered up a faint fake-laugh, "I'm guessing you heard about my mess-up then?" Siega looked down at the ground.

This time it was Moran's time to smile sympathetically at her. He too had messed up before, and he too had faced the wrath of Moriarty in return. This web that she had been tangled in, was only a fraction of her fault- but she had compassed herself in all the guilt.

That was one of the reason's Seb started to warm to her: she was genuine. She didn't pass off the blame onto others and she actually understood people have emotions, unlike the majority of people Sebastian had worked with/gotten to know, "Yeah, you could say that."

"What's that hinting towards?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Jim's dragged me into it as well. I'm sorry." He couldn't look her in the eye. Seb knew damn well he couldn't lie to get past this girl, and so had to bend the truth in order to keep her safe from her own emotions. If she knew what Moriarty had in store for her, she'd be running for the hills.  
No one would blame her either.

"Hey, don't you apologize- it's not your place to. If anything it should be me to say sorry" Siega took a mouthful of wine before choking as her mind caught up with her, "Wait! He hasn't taken you off the Tokyo job, has he?" Her eyes were wide- she couldn't've messed this up for him.

From the sofa opposite, Sebastian could see her eyes double in size. If anyone knew how much a job like that meant to him, it was Siega. She always bent the rules, even if it was just slightly, to give him that extra chance of an opportunity such as the Tokyo file.

"No no, don't you worry. I was never on it in the first place- Jim thought it'd be better for everyone if I stayed on the Italy job. Lea took the Tokyo job." Damn it, he hated lying; he felt dirty, like everyone could see the dirt on him and brand him a liar for the rest of his existence.

She relaxed back down a bit, which helped Seb not feel as awful as he would've done.  
"So who's taken your Italian file, now Jim's moved you over to me?" Siega faded off at the end of her question, she'd ruined an opportunity of a job for him.

"Kin. Which is better, because that lad needed some experience. That job was more of a beginner level anyway, it's better if I stay here." He swallowed, biting his tongue stopping him from continuing.

Siega smiled dimly, she still felt awful. It was because of her mistakes Seb was staying in the UK.

"Don't worry, Sea- you haven't done anything wrong in my eyes." Sebastian smiled at her, making her smile grow wider in retaliation.

"Yeah, but in Moriarty's eyes," She almost flinched at saying his name, but continued anyway, "I may have well set fire to all his first editions. He's livid."

Sebastian looked as a piece of hair fell from behind her ear, and in front of her face. It irritated him how long it took her to remove it, as she stayed staring into her wine glass.

* * *

 

"Sherlock, I'm back." John Watson's voice hit all the walls in the living room and fell upon deaf ears. The detective was too enthralled in his laptop, than to recognise the voice of his flatmate.

Well, if technicalities were part of it, the laptop wasn't exactly 'his', "You're on my laptop again? Yours is right next to you!"

Sherlock grunted, "but yours was closer." John just about deciphered the mumbling.  
"Yeah but now I'm going to have to change my password again" John sighed as he continued into the kitchen, throwing his coat over the back of the nearest chair.

"At least make it a challenge next time" Sherlock shouted back

Taking out a cup from the cupboard, Watson flicked on the kettle and set a couple tea bags in the teapot.  
He thought back to the night he'd just returned from. Siega's smile played on his mind- she way it lit up her face was something he rarely saw in women. She wasn't dressed elegantly, just skin-tight jeans and a jumper, but it made her more approachable.  
Although, his mind was quickly interrupted by the detective whom had claimed the entire sofa has his home for the night.

"She's had an abusive relationship" a sing-song voice came echoing through the kitchen walls, just as the kettle boiled. John quickly put the water in the teapot and left it to brew.

"What?" He sat down in the one-seat chair closest to the kitchen.

Sherlock clicked the laptop mouse button again, "Oh come on John, it's damn well noticeable. She's been crying earlier, someone had upset her. No, scared her, you know why? Because she was jumpy and nervous. She came around to an aggravated state not moments later, she was used to someone upsetting her but now she's fed up with it. Ergo, numerous people must've done the same thing, if not variations, or what had affected her in order for her to fight back.  
The company she works for- Speak Up. It's a counselling service for anyone affected by abusive relationships.  
Also, think back to the first time we met her- she was petrified at the confrontation. Along with other components, but you don't care much to listen to them as your ideal is she's attracted to you."

John stood after the speech of Sherlock's and returned back to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of well-needed tea. He sighed, shrugging off the topic of conversation Sherlock was trying to drag him into, "Heard anything about the theatrical killer?"

He heard the laptop shut and faint footsteps come closer, but not enter the perimeter of the kitchen.

"No. What did she have to drink tonight?" Sherlock had placed himself to a position to stare out the window at the street below.

"Why? What has my night got to do with you?" Watson returned back into the living room, tea in hand.

"Just answer the question, John."

He sighed deeply, "Wine. White wine."

Sherlock moved himself back towards the sofa, but stopped at the table instead picking up the card Mrs. Lane had given them earlier today.

"I have to make a call" Sherlock spoke, to no-one in-particular as he walked into his bedroom, phone in hand.

* * *

 

It was the next morning, and Siega awoke after a restless night of nightmares and only a few hours sleep. She struggled to emerge from the cocoon of bedsheets she'd wrapped herself in, but the clock next to her bed which shone out '9:34am' told her to move.

Walking into the bathroom, she caught a glance at the mirror: bed hair and eyeliner surrounding her eye. Sighing, she grabbed out the make-up wipes and cleaned up her face -something she should've done the night before- before brushing out the dreadlocks that had formed overnight in her hair.

Staying in her pyjamas she dragged herself to the kitchen and put the kettle on, before filling a cup with coffee granules.

The sun shone in her eyes, as she thought over the night she'd spent with both John Watson and Moran. Surprisingly to no-one, the later of the two proved to be more of the stressing company.

The flick of the kettle, signalling it had boiled, dragged her out of her thoughts. Just as she started pouring the water a voice entered her right ear,

"Careful."

Siega jumped sky-high which resulted in the boiling water pouring all over her hand instead of in the cup. She hissed in pain before spinning around, meeting the back of Jim Moriarty's head as he began walking to the breakfast bar in the centre of the room whilst chuckling to himself.

"I did warn you" he smiled to her, the sickly facial expression made Siega almost gag. She stepped over to the sink and turned on the cold tap, relieving her hand from the burning sensation.

"How long have you been here?" she meekly said, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

Moriarty grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in front of him, "No no, I'm not here to answer any unimportant questions you have. I'm here purely on," he paused for a second thinking over his last word, "business."

"Right, well if you're business involved burning my hand to kingdom come, congratulations you've succeeded." Siega held back a growl, as well as a death glare which was forming in her eyes. But the fear of what would happen if she did stopped her dead in her tracks.

Moriarty chuckled once more, "How I've missed that fight you had when you first came to me," he dug his knife into the apple in his hand, tearing out a piece and putting it into his mouth. " _Oh Jim please help. Oh Jim he keeps hurting me. Oh Jim he stabbed me._ " He mimicked a almost child-like voice, " _Oh Jim I can't stand it any longer_ "

"Stop" Siega could almost hear the smile forming on his face, as he stared at her back; probably wishing for her to combust then and there, but hey.

"Hit a nerve, sweetie?" Moriarty's stickily Irish accent grew louder as he stood up from his chair and walked up to her. Siega heard the change in volume, and span around before he could do anything without her knowing. He lifted his hand up, to which Siega flinched a bit away from him. Moriarty smiled, and instead went to turn off the tap which she had left running.

She stared into his eyes, as if trying to read his mind or at least telepathically tell him to leave, "What do you want?"

"See, now you're asking the right questions." He leaned against the kitchen side, and drummed his fingers on the granite surface, "Well, to no one's surprise" Jim's voice turned into that of a false dumbfounded accent, "Sherlock hasn't done as you had wished, and is still pushing. Despite that little date you had with his flatmate. So, in order to not waste my resources, and Sebastian's time any longer, you have all of three days to ensure he backs off."

"Three days? That's impossible! I've barely had two days as it is!" Siega's eyes widened as she realised what her boss was asking of her.

"Try harder." Moriarty growled as his eyes almost turned into slits in reply to the attitude he was being given, "or else I feel a little phone call may be made to a certain someone."

Siega turned back to her coffee cup, and poured the water left in the kettle in the cup before taking a mouthful. She'd never been more thankful for the existence of the magical liquid than she was right then.

"Don't. I'll fix it somehow. Just... Just don't do that." Her hands almost betrayed her, as she felt them start to shake. Fortunately the coffee helped her to keep them calm. Moriarty raised an eyebrow at her, standing up straight. Siega sighed and looked up from the floor, where he eyes had fallen onto, "Please?"

"Three days." He smiled at the sight before him: Siega was barely controlling the fear building up inside her.  
Yes, he knew the task was impossible for all bar a small few, but he didn't care. Siega Lane was one person Moriarty had longed to toy with since the first three months after they had gotten acquainted. Only adding Sherlock and Watson into the mix would make it all the more sweeter: Sherlock's intelligence being tested by a young woman, and Watson's feelings being played with like a yoyo.  
Although he'd employed Siega, after laying eyes on her and learning everything about her existence, it seemed more fitting to use her for Moriarty's own amusement rather than for the job she'd been put with onto. She'd done her job exceptionally, but when Moran started to show signs of affection towards her at the sixth month mark of her employment, Moriarty had set in stone she was to be a play toy of his.  
He'd already used her for fun numerous times before, but this would top it all off- cure his boredom for weeks to come.

"Mr Holmes had tried to contact your little fake establishment last night, and what a surprise he received when he found out the phone number on the card you'd given him redirected him to your house phone. Well, it was hardly noticeable considering you were having a lovely catch-up with Moran at the time." He glared into Siega's eyes. Moriarty knew they had both tried to keep it a secret, and that only angered him more when he found out a few months ago. He watched as she set the cup down on the kitchen side, and subtly grabbed onto the counter-top as stability from collapsing, "Not very professional really, is it? Wrong phone number printed on a business card." Jim smirked at her.

Siega couldn't believe this- he wasn't helping her at all, he was hindering her. Moriarty was asking for something she couldn't do within a month let alone five days in total, "But you gave me those cards! You printed all the information on them!"

Jim played a look of false surprise onto his face, "Oops, so I did. Sorry" he sang the apology as it flew out of this mouth. 


	8. Two Steps Back

Siega felt her stomach turn, as she realised exactly what her boss was saying. The confrontation within her kitchen had been going on for quite some time, and so far the only thing Siega had gained was a possible bruised neck, from where her boss had pinned her up against the wall not long ago. With the shouting that'd echoed from wall-to-wall every now and then, she was honestly surprised no one had come to knock on her door to check up on her. Then again, she had more than the occasional night of putting horror movies on louder than required- the neighbours had probably just grown accustomed.  
She was now stood in the corner of her kitchen, with Jim just a few steps away from her; still face-to-face. Bar the throbbing neck, the only other difference in her appearance were the now more-visible tears, which Siega was in constant battle with to keep at bay.

This wasn't a case of employment anymore, it was like a game of cat and mouse. Instead this time, the cat was more like a lion, and the mouse? Well, the mouse was Siega.

"Jim, I don't understand what you want from me." She was frantic, almost at the point of begging her boss to leave her house.

In reply, Moriarty made an most-audible growl before speaking, "I want you to do as you're fucking told for once, Siega. You're my employee, not a whore I invited in to flaunt your body to Sebastian with." He laughed before taking a step forward, jutted out his bottom lip and looked her up and down with a visibly unimpressed expression, "Then again, I really don't see what Seb see's in you. You're not exactly easy on the eye, you're broken in numerous ways, and I'm pretty sure you're not even house-trained. Well, I bet he sees even less of you now you've taken that oh-so precious job out from underneath him" Jim sighed before continuing, "Y'know, I liked you- I really did. Boredom; it's a flea hidden in your duvet at night, always biting away at you making you scratch away, until you're left restless and tired."

Siega accidentally let slip one lonely tear as she felt it against her cheek, she looked at the floor and moved her hands around constantly, trying to calm herself down from either falling victim to a panic attack or saying something stupid.

"And who else to cure my boredom, than the one girl who's cured the boredom of my right-hand man?" He smiled as he finished his terrifying speech.

Siega was trying to find her voice, which had -unknowingly to her- hidden itself away much like she wanted to do herself. "I think it's time you should leave" looking at the tiled floor she could almost feel Moriarty's anger radiate from him, she knew within the second syllable of 'terrifying' that this was a grave mistake.

Her boss snarled at her, before closing the gap completely between them. Before she could push him away, he'd pinned both arms against the wall, and started to lean into the side of her face. She could smell the aftershave mixed with a faint undertone of scotch and peppermint; the scent of fear, which had been engraved in her mind.

"Actually, love," he purred in a deep Irish accent, "I think you'll be having a few visitors very shortly." Moriarty trailed off as he looked at his watch, and then back to to meet the eyes of the trembling girl infront of him.  
"Don't worry, sweetheart, I think we'll have to make these meet ups of ours a regular occurrence." He smiled, before leaning in deathly slow and kissing her left cheek slightly. He straightened out his suit jacket and made his way out the kitchen towards the front door, "Oh, and good luck" making his way outside and closing the door behind him with a 'click'.

Siega couldn't believe what had just happened. Moriarty had broke into her house, terrorised her and close-enough told her he'd set her up for everything. And what justification did he have? 'Boredom' and 'distracting Sebastian' apparently. She couldn't think straight; near the point of one of her many panic attacks.

Staying leaning up against the kitchen wall, terrified, she only just managed to stop herself from fainting because screaming at the top of her lungs, "FUCK!"

After everything she'd done for him, he has the nerve to use her as a playtoy? She was fuming, and pretty sure that if the human biology allowed it she'd combust right then and there. The anger only stayed for a considerably small amount of time, before the panic returned. How the hell was she going to get out of this mess? Moriarty was the one who helped her out of the trench that was her life before, helped hide her and disguise her entire existance. But to get rid of Moriarty? To hide?  
She could never do that- heck, not even the top spies in Britian could achieve that. What does Moriarty even want? Everytime she made headway he shoved her two steps back?  
Right then it clicked; he wanted demise. He wanted her demise handed to him on a silver platter, along with either her dead body or a jail sentence. What a great ending to a game that would be; after watching his new toy squirm around for months underneath his feet, he'd get to see how someone's life can fall from all around them. If he couldn't have Sherlock, he'd just have to make-do for the moment: which meant Siega had no way out of the metal-toothed bear trap her boss turned out to be.

Before Siega could even start a plan of action, her doorbell rang. Followed by three knocks. Followed by more knocks. Followed by the bell ringing again. She'd only just made it to the living room and composed herself, and already the visitor had demolished a good 50% of the door structure.  
On the other side of the door, she swore she could hear voices amidst the never-stopping knocking, before all was quiet just as she reached for the lock. As she turned it, she didn't even need to put effort into moving the door open before the stranger who oh-so lovingly nearly broke her door down pushed it open for her.  
Straight into her.

* * *

"Sherlock, are you even thinking this through correctly? I mean, think of the possibilities: sure you dislike this girl but that doesn't mean you get to use the small amount of evidence you have gathered, against her. God, Sherlock I'm pretty sure you couldn't even call what you have 'evidence' to begin with!" John was shouting into the left-ear of the detective, whom was currently more than pre-occupied with knocking on Mrs.Lane's door.

"Stop it." Holmes continued knocking, before changing his attack-method and pressing the doorbell.

"Stop what? Sherlock just stop knocking! I'm sure she's busy!" John made a grab for Sherlock's hand, but when his target moved to the side he was left stumbling forward and being faced by the face of his angered friend.

"Stop letting your emotions rule that head of yours! To you, she may very well be attractive, but for god sake John look around you before letting that blind you!" The knocking returned back to the black, wooden door

"Right so, because of some maybe-coincidental fact you saw on her company's website- she's a murderer?" John raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Yes."

"Sherlock!"

Just then the lock on the door clicked, followed by Sherlock ramming it open, unfortunately resulting in a loud 'bump' sound on the other side. As soon as a path was spotted, Holmes made a b-line straight for the living room, without staying to observe what, or whom, had amitted the painful-sound. 

"Hello to you too" came a sarcastic voice, as shuffling behind the door alerted John to the victim to the wooden-battering ram was a -now fallen- Siega. 

He poked his head 'round to grasp a first-glance surveillance snapshot, before stepping in and gently closing the door behind him. Smiling sympathetically at the woman on the floor, he leant down and offered her a hand; both out of politeness and apologies, "I'm so sorry about this..." he trailed off.

"'tis fine, don't you worry about it" Siega smiled back, brushing herself off and straightening her shirt out, "Dare I ask what brings you around to my humble abode?"

John sighed, and began to worry his apology would soon be void at his soon-to-be-given reply, "Sherlock's just got an inkling that's all- I really am sorry."

 


End file.
